The Sting of Rejection

I got a rejection yesterday from a big publisher. My agent sent me the email, and the editor had very nice things to say about my novel, but alas, once again, they were going to pass. But they reassured us that "someone else" would love it. They are right. This business is VERY subjective.

Problem is, we're running out of Someone Elses to submit it too.

So, I'm beginning to wonder, (since Hubby and I have this sickening urge to watch the prelims of American Idol in their entirety, wincing through to see when the next William Hung can be discovered) ...am I just like another one of those clueless singers?
You know the ones. They appear before the judges, thinking they're "all that" and that they can whip James Brown's voice any day with their powerhouse voices (which they announce quite confidently to the judges) and the next thing you know they're attempting to sing, and the sound coming out is not unlike the sound a slowly-deflating balloon makes in its final death throes. Or a sound reminiscent of school days when the fingernails were drawn slowly down the chalkboard.

And these people think they can sing. They really, really have convinced themselves that they sound exactly like Patti LaBelle (when in actuality her dog could probably sing better).
These unfortunate souls have probably been surrounded by people and family their whole lives, who, thinking that lies are better than the alternative, have pumped them up and told them that their voices are "wonderful" and they really have talent.

Is this me? Am I some slowly-deflating balloon who really has a subnormal cookie-cutter writing style and despite the reassurances of my assorted family and close friends will NEVER publish a novel because frankly, I suck?

I am hoping I am not that deluded. All I can do is work harder and hone my craft. Mediocrity is a crime in this business, unless of course, you're a CELEBRITY but I-wont-get-going-on-that-subject-because-that-is-another-can-of-worms-entirely.
My loving mother (bless her) actually suggested I get "notorious" somehow first, and then, I'd get a publishing deal in a heartbeat, like all the celebrities do. Oh, sure. THAT will be easy. Since I would never do porn or act in front of a camera, I would have to resort to crime, and writing a novel in jail doesn't seem that appealing.

Looks like it's going to be the Nobodydom of being a stay-home-mom for me, for a while!